


Third Wave

by Trash_Queen



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies), Supernatural
Genre: Alaska, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Anchorage Shatterdome, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Bisexual Sam Winchester, Bobby is Everyone's Dad, Drifting with a Kaiju Brain, KPN (kaiju prediction network), Mary is still dead, Multi, PPDC, Post-Movie: Pacific Rim: Uprising (2018), Post-Operation Pitfall (Pacific Rim), RIP stacker pentecost and everyone who died in operation pitfall your sacrifice was not in vain, dean's poly i guess?, eventually, john is still a bad father, so pacific rim and uprising have already happened but are way in the past, technically soulless sam, wayyyyyy in the future because why not, weird science
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:55:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23544238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash_Queen/pseuds/Trash_Queen
Summary: In 2155, it started again. And, since the third time’s the charm, human kind was ready. More or less. It turns out Alaska is still the ass-end of nowhere, and it still sucks to be stationed there. Not that you have much of a choice, when you and your brother are pulled out of a jaeger you cobbled together with after-market parts and given a choice: Anchorage, or jail.
Relationships: (mentioned) - Relationship, Castiel/Meg Masters/Dean Winchester, Jody Mills/Bobby Singer, John Winchester/Mary Winchester, Past Amelia Novak/Jimmy Novak, Past Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester - Relationship, Ruby/Sam Winchester, past Bobby Singer/Karen Singer, past tyson brady/sam winchester - Relationship
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i love pacific rim like it was my own child and i've been binging a lot of SPN now that the world is ending from the plague so, like, here this is?

The First Wave had come almost two centuries ago, in 2013. K-Day had been immortalized, in movies and TV and school curriculum. It was a global holiday, and, as most everyone would tell you, the beginning of a collective nightmare. It was also the start of a long run of mistakes that almost as many people would say the world was still learning from. In the 2020’s, the jaeger program would be defunded to the point of near-paralyzation, in favor of a wall, of all things. Stacker Pentecost, the man whose portrait hangs in almost every public building in America and whose statue is outside of every major military base and shatter dome across the globe, would hold it together long enough for Striker Eureka and Gypsy Danger to close the Breach.

The world would party, and drink, and memorialize, and generally breathe a collective sigh of relief until 2035, when Dr. Newt Geiszler would Frankenstein together a bunch of old kaiju parts to set the whole conquer-the-world thing into motion for the Precursors a second time. Pentecost’s son would step up this time, and save the world, and everyone would go on with their lives until 2045, when a second breach would rip the ocean floor open, and set the whole world scrambling again. And from then on, it had never stopped. The Second Wave had begun, and lasted nearly a century, during which humanity scrambled and struggled to get out from behind the giant eight ball that it had placed itself behind- forgetting the Boy Scout motto and all that- before the Breach went quiet again after humanity out-foxed the Precursors, some scientists figuring out how to manipulate the tunnel of space-time that had been collectively screwing the planet. And the world had almost a decade of peace before the Third Wave.

In 2155, it started again. And, since the third time’s the charm, human kind was ready. More united with better defenses, better strategy, and better jaegers. Mark-7’s and 8’s, better drift technology, better shelters- and for a while, everything held steady. People even started going to the beach again, and moving back to a few of the coastal cities. Apparently San Francisco had never been cheaper to live in, once you get behind the wall. The planet was cleaned up, the petty arguments of yesteryear forgotten, for the most part.

Not that everything is hunky-dory- kaiju blue contamination is the number one ecological problem of the day. The psychological effects of drifting, and drifting with kaiju, have become more and more scrutinized, to the point that if you’re not PPDC and don’t have specific clearance, the technology is under a level of lockdown that would put Fort Knox to shame. Both life expectancy and the world’s population has dropped, to about half of what it was at the start of the First Wave, but it’s finally holding steady after the second. Ration stamps have become commonplace in most parts of the world, unless you’re Choi Industrial Works-level wealthy. But hey, such is life. It could be worse- humanity could be extinct. You take your victories where you can get them. At this point, this ceases to become a global story. It’s not about humanity, the collective 'you' or 'we', or triumphing in the face of a seemingly endless cycle of crap. From here on, it’s a story about one, tiny family.

John and Mary Winchester were from Lawrence, Kansas. John was a career military man with the PPDC, one half of the team that piloted the jaeger Colt Fury, and Mary the sole heir to a legacy of J-science greatness. They met at the 2230 Remembrance Day Parade in Chicago, now the largest metropolitan city in America, and fell in love. They had a family, and moved with their two boys up and down the Pacific coast before landing at the Eureka, California shatterdome, where the universe decided the worst had to happen. In 2243, the second recorded Triple Event occurred, and there wasn’t enough time to save everyone. So John grabbed his sons, and he drove.


	2. Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Sam arrive in Anchorage.

_Anchorage Shatterdome_

_Anchorage, Alaska_

_June, 2263, 3:15 a.m._

They had been driving for hours. The last leg of their journey took them through another stretch of nondescript, dark woods, the trees lighting up like pale, bloodless fingers as the headlights slid over them. And suddenly, they had fallen away- Sam looked around as they burst into the dead zone between the treeline and the wall. No one lived here. No one was out driving. He looked over and saw Dean, concentrated entirely on the road ahead of them, bobbing his head and humming to the music he was playing.

“Have you heard anything? About this place?” He asked, thinking it must have been for the hundredth time. “Dad didn’t mention it in his files at all?”

“Nope,” Dean answered. He didn’t say any more.

Sam sighed and slid down in his seat, watching the dark, barren earth that he couldn’t see slide past them.

Suddenly, the headlights illuminated something- a great, grey wall, shooting up from the ground for what seemed like a mile above their heads. One of the few remaining sections of the Alaskan Wall of Life. They must be close.

There are no guards when they approach the gate- it’s been left up, the rickety wooden arms that signal people through already torn off by thru traffic, their splinters disintegrated. As they pass through, they can see the rust and rot that will eventually bring the whole thing down. With a pang of resistance and pride, Dean thinks, _jaegers are different. We’re different. We won’t rot._ And then they’re through, driving through another spit of barren land before the Shatterdome comes into sight. It grows and grows in front of them until it’s looming, hulking over them, one huge, grey mass arcing up from the coastline. They pull up, and an MP stops them at a gate.

“Name and identification?” The man barks, shining a flashlight into their car. Dean sighs in annoyance, motioning for Sam to hand him the papers while he squints against the beam. Sam scrambles to dig them out of the glovebox, eventually shoving them into Dean’s hand so he can get away from artificial, too-bright lights.

“Dean and Sam Winchester, here to transfer to the Anchorage Shatterdome on the command of Naomi Lowe, PPDC central command.” He flashes the sheaf of papers in the mans face in annoyance. “We’re reporting to a Marshal Samuel Campbell.”

“Yes, Marshall Campbell is expecting you two. We thought you would be here hours ago.” He notes in annoyance, handing the papers back with two temporary passes.

“Oh, you know,” Dean accepts them, tossing them over to Sam. “Traffic’s murder on the highways these days.” He flashes the man an unamused smirk.

“Of course,” The man deadpans. “Those badges will get you through the gates and into the main garage. I’ll radio ahead.”

“Good to know.” Dean retreats fully back into the safety of the impala, rolling his window up and belting out of the checkpoint as soon as the gate’s up, rolling on down towards the gate to the Shatterdome’s garage. It’s not far, but when they card in, it’s to see Marshal Campbell standing there in uniform with a small retinue of the dome’s finest. They all look half-asleep. Only the Marshal looks like he’s awake.

They pull in, throw the impala into park, and tumble out, immediately going to retrieve their duffels from the trunk.

“Leave it,” The Marshal barks, and Sam stills. He can see Dean balking, for just a second, before he opens the trunk anyway.

“I said leave it, Winchester,” The Marshal repeats, an Dean finally relents.

“Valet service, huh?’ He steps out from behind the car and smirks. “This place is classy.”

“We’ve got more important things to cover right now. You can get your things in the morning. I’m Marshal Campbell,” He introduces himself, not offering a hand. He’s tall, imposing and bald, with too-sharp eyes that look just this side of familiar. Sam can’t place it. Dean just leans against the car, his ever-present smirk in place. “This is Ash Taylor, our head of K-Sciene and Commanding Officer, J-tech-” He gestures to a skinny, half-awake man with a two centuries out of date mullet, clad in a worn sweatshirt that said _FREE BIRD_ and pair of pajama pants. He gave them a sleepy half-smile and waved; “Natalie Wright, head mechanic on your pit crew-“ A slouched, grumpy looking woman, looking at them from underneath a slept-in tangle of hair, arms crossed in front of a faded t-shirt reading _WOODSTOCK 2259_. “And James Novak, your Neural Bridge Operator.” A rumpled looking man, wearing, inexplicably, a trench coat over regulation-issue pajamas. He’s also the only one besides the Marshal wearing boots. He nods and gives them a half-hearted wave that Sam returns.

“Well, we appreciate the welcoming committee- you’ve really gone all out- but we’ve been driving all night, we’re tired, we’d like to get to our bunks-“ Dean tries, but the Marshal cuts him off, clearly relishing the fact that he gets to keep them on his time now.

“Nonsense, Ranger! We’ve been waiting for you. Some of us could hardly sit still,” He glances to Jimmy as he says it, which strikes them both as odd, as he seems as listless as the rest of them. “We’ll show you to the jaeger bay first, and then to your bunks. Don’t want you to go to bed without seeing what you came all this way for.”

“Of course,” Dean smile tightly up at him. Sam just nods lamely, tucking his hands in his pockets. The Marshall turns and leads them through a door, talking the whole time.

“This is one of the oldest shatter domes still in operation. It opened soon after the Proving Grounds, in the early twenty-first century. We’ve been keeping the fight up ever since, with the exception of the PPDC chasing that _wall of life_ nonsense. It housed builders for a while, but we got back to business soon after the Second Wave began. We are responsible,” He paused to card them through a checkpoint. “For fifteen miles of southern Alaskan coast, and run interference for other shatter domes along the Canadian and Pacific-Northwest coastline. We’re not the fanciest facility in the corps- we’re no Hong Kong or Tokyo or L.A. like you boys are probably used to, but we are the toughest. We do well for ourselves out here.”

“‘Course you are,” Dean bites, rising to the barb. How he still has the energy is beyond Sam- he’s been the only one driving for days, since they left the Portland shatter dome, and he barely let Sam behind the wheel since they talked their way into taking the impala out of L.A. almost a week ago. It had been days of semi-road tripping, following the wall off life north on an eerily familiar junk food and beer-and-energy-drink-fueled bender until they reached Anchorage. “We’re not L.A. boys, ‘course, so I think we’ll be just fine.”

“Oh,” the Marshall looks back to give them a mockingly appraising glance. “Whereabouts you two from, then?”

“Everywhere,” Dean shrugs, playing for impressive when he knows that the Marshal knows full well they’re from South Dakota. Mostly. “Nowhere.”

“Well, you best come to terms with the fact that you’re both _from here_ , now.” He says with a little too much venom. “This is one of the toughest-“

“Yeah, yeah, one of the toughest shatter domes in the corps. You’ve said,” Dean waved the comment away, apparently heedless of the fact that the Marshall holds their lives in his hands now. He could have them scrubbing the wall for the rest of their lives, or stick them in a T-90 and feed them to a cat V, just for his amusement. Sam wonders, perhaps hysterically, if there’s a Mark-1 around here somewhere, and what the chance of them getting radiation poisoning along the Alaskan coast is. “Is the bay anywhere in this county? Because I really need my beauty sleep.”

“What my brother means, Marshall,” He speaks up for the first time, shoving the fear down and angling for maximum damage control. “Is that we’ve been in tough scrapes before. We’ve gotten along well so far. We appreciate your time, and the history and all, we’re just tired, we’ve been driving for days. Haven’t had a chance to rest much.”

“We’re almost there,” Natalie speaks up, cutting off whatever the Marshall was going to say to shoot Sam’s hopes of going to bed down. “The bay isn’t far. And then we can get back to our _beauty sleep_.”

She’s right- the bay isn’t that far; the Marshall cards them all in, and Natalie wordlessly strides past them to take point, leading them past sets of larger-than-life, gloomily lit legs. They’re thicker than redwoods, taller, to, built bigger and meaner than anything Dean and Sam have ever piloted- black market bots are nothing compared to these, and suddenly they feel lucky that they hadn’t yet been squashed like an aluminum can. Not long after, Natalie stops at the set of legs they were apparently meant to see, flicking a set of work lights on until it’s lit up- a tall, black and gunmetal grey jaeger. It’s umbilical connections are plugged up for the night, and it’s surrounded by cranes and gangplanks, it’s chest opened like it had been blown apart.

“Here’s your jaeger. It’s a Mark-3, one of the last in operation, but it’s built to last, and so on,” Natalie waves toward it. “You can see it tomorrow. Can we sleep now, Marshall? It’s almost four a.m.” She turns and frowns at him.

“Of course.” The Marshall concedes, apparently at a loss now that all of his cards have been played for him. “Their rooms are close to yours, Natalie. If you wouldn’t mind showing them.”

“Not unless you wanna babysit ‘em to their door,” She snorts, apparently out of all patience as she shuts the lights back off. Dean lets out a laugh, following as she makes her way back down the bay. Sam stutters out an apology before leaving them behind in the gloom of the bay.

“Nice job sticking it to ol’ mean demeanor back there,” Dean tries, apparently not too tired to flirt.

“Shut up,” Natalie snaps, and not a word is said between the three of them until they get to a section that looks like dorm rooms. “This is all available quarters. Help yourselves, there’s not actually assigned rooms.” She gestures. “You can pick rooms in another quadrant, but three is off limits. Some radiation leak- you’ll know if you run into it. They welded the doors.”

And with that, she turned and walked up to one of the doors, turned the wheel, and disappeared behind it.

Sam and Dean looked at each other, clearly sharing the same _what the hell_ type of thought, before they looked into the rooms with open doors, gauging where they should try and sleep. Some of the rooms were empty, some only had bed frames. One looked to be crawling with roaches, upsettingly enough. Eventually they found one with made up bunks, and settled down. The mattresses were old, the springs were creaky, but it felt better than sleeping in the Impala had by a long shot. Before the two of them knew it, they were asleep.


	3. Day One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first day of school, so to speak. It's hard to act cool when you've only got a few hours of sleep under your belt.

Wakeup call came way, way too soon. An alarm blared, making Sam jolt upright in the top bunk and Dean roll unceremoniously out on the bottom. He lay sprawled on the floor a moment before glaring up at Sam, saying, “I fucking hate this place.”

“Shut up, let’s go grab our stuff.” Sam jumped down from his bunk and opened the door, looking out into the hall. Behind him, Dean pushes himself back to his feet, mumbling about just going to jail instead of toughing it out here.They splash some water on their faces before stumbling out into the hall, and manage to retrace their steps to the jaeger bay. It’s lit up for morning, the jaegers all fully visible now. The one immediately to their left is the one Natalie showed them, the one that they’re gonna step into sometime today. Across the bay from it is one that looks like the jaegers they piloted back in LA, Turtle Bay or Port Hardy- a mess of parts, all haphazardly welded together and spray painted a bright, cherry red. Next to it is the sleekest looking one in the bay, polished deep blue, six bullets painted across the back; the one across from that one is a scuffed, dark green. There are a few stragglers milling around, people they assume are scientists and mechanics and MP’s. He turns right to head back towards the garage, and Sam can see the _second_ Dean claps eyes on a pretty girl with long, dark hair, clad in ranger leathers and chewing gum as she leans up against a control panel beneath the dark green jaeger, immersed in her phone.

“Good morning,” He puts a jovial spin in his voice. Or as jovial as he could be, on an hour of sleep.

“Not a chance, flyboy,” The girl doesn’t even look up at him, blowing a pink bubble before snapping it between her teeth.

“Aw, we don’t mean to bother you- we’re new. I’m Dean,” He flashes what’s usually a winning, handsome grin for him before gesturing to Sam, who was busy trying not to let the creeping awkwardness get to him. “This is my brother Sam. We’re trying to find our way to the garage.”

The girl glances up at them for a moment, clearly annoyed, before pointing them back down the bay without a word. Just as they’re about to leave, another girl comes up, similarly dark-haired and in matching leathers. She stands beside the other girl and gives them an appraising look.

“Fresh meat,” She nods. Dean smirks and Sam gives a weak _morning_ before she turns back to her friend. “C’mon, I think they’ve got waffles this morning. I wanna get there before Clarence eats them all.”

They walk off without a word, Dean turning to watch them walk across the bay.

“You hear that, Sammy? Waffles,” He smiles, somehow undeterred by sleep deprivation or two cold shoulders in under two minutes.

“Let’s get our stuff before you go chasing skirt,” Sam frowns, walking down towards the garage. “I need fresh clothes.”

The garage isn’t too far- the bay is still massive, it takes them what seems like forever to make their way down to the door, and Sam has to remind himself that it’s only one of four bays the dome was built to house. And it’s half-empty, the interior space now seemingly dedicated to spare parts, a makeshift welding bay, what looks like a spray booth, a handful of crowded desks, and a mess of maps, photographs and blueprints. They found their passes still let them card through the garage door, and found the impala where they had left it between two personnel trucks. Dean greets it with a “Hey, baby,” and pops the trunk. They’re both rustling through their things when a low whistle lets them know they’re not alone. They both peek out around the trunk to see mullet guy, leaning back a bit to take the whole thing in, mug of coffee in hand.

“That is a _sweet_ ride, brother,” He walks around to look at it from the other side, and they pull their duffels out of the back before Dean slams the trunk, mullet guy looking up at them. “She an original?”

“Nah.” Dean shakes his head. “2219 memorial run. I’d give my left everything for an original ’67 though.”

“Ash,” The man sticks his hand out. Dean shakes it before he turns to Sam. “We met last night. Sort of. I think. It all went fuzzy there after one a.m.”

“Dean,” Dean introduces himself before nodding.

“Sam,” Sam smiles. “We appreciated the Marshal’s welcome party, but…” He trailed off.

“It seemed more like a pissing contest than a welcome? Yeah.” Ash sniffed, looking back over the car like he wanted to ask more about it before apparently deciding to forego the questions. “Marshal Campbell can be kind of a major hard ass. Where’d you come by the ride?”

They start making their way out of the garage, Ash carding them back through the doors and into the bay. On the other side of the door, he walks over to a desk and grabs a folder before rejoining them.

“Our dad’s,” Dean says. “Practically raised us in it.”

“Heard you two were travelin’ rangers before now, right?”

“We’ve been around.” Dean shrugged, clearly enjoying the ‘mysterious stranger’ crap. Sam rolled his eyes.

“Whole dome saw the Battle of the Bay,” Ash said, an impressed note in his voice. “That modified plasma cannon was _bee-autiful_. You two looked real good comin’ out of that one. Until PPDC got there, anyway. You two had breakfast yet?” Ash turned to them.

“No. We’d love some,” Sam cut in before Dean could play for cool again. “We heard someone earlier mention waffles?”

“I thought kitchen said something about ‘em. Come on, you can drop your bags by your jaeger and meet your crew.”

They followed Ash to the jaeger and then to the mess hall, Ash and Dean chatting the whole time about the Battle of the Bay and the impala while Sam stared up at the jaegers, sidestepping harried mechanics and waving lamely at the girls that had blown them off earlier this morning, walking back toward the bay. He thought he heard the phrase _fresh meat_ uttered again and quickly refocused on following Ash and Dean.

When they came out in the mess hall, it was mostly empty. Whether they were late or the dome was _that_ understaffed, Sam had no idea. When they grabbed their trays and headed up to the line, it turned out the weren’t too late for waffles after all. They loaded up on the requisite reconstituted eggs, not-crisp but not-limp bacon, frozen waffles, toast, melon-based fruit salad, and coffee- glorious coffee- before Ash led them to a table where their head mechanic, Natalie, sat arguing with a dark-haired boy they didn’t recognize. The other guy in the welcome committee from last night, Jimmy, sat dipping strips of waffles covered in peanut butter into his coffee, apparently engrossed by their conversation.

“-telling you, it’s just not possible to patch! You can’t integrate the Mark-2 reactor with a Mark-5 core, they’re fundamentally incompatible,” Natalie was waving a piece of melon around with her fork, as if the wild gesticulation proved her point.

“Not if you mesh them within a Rosen matrix with extra control rods,” The boy pointed to a napkin that was between them, covered in a cramped diagram and lines of equations. “If you can control the reaction-“

“Number one, that’s for cold reactors only, and there are no cold reactors a hundred and fifty years old. Number two, extra control rods within a Rosen matrix with more highly enriched fuel increases the possibility of a meltdown _exponentially_ ,” The melon was thrust up into the air. “The radiation shields wouldn’t be able to cope for very long, either. You’d have to be constantly cycling the rods anyway, we’d be spinning the thing down once a week. And once we spin it down-“

“We’re one fuck up away from another Chernobyl, I get it!” The boy frowned. “There’s gotta be a way to-“

“Still arguin’ about your reactor?” Ash asked as they sat down. The boy gave a noncommittal grunt as he scribbled more equations. “Give it up, man, you’re never gonna out-do ‘er.”

“We’ve gotta increase our output to weapons, otherwise we’re dead in the water the next time we go out.” He huffed.

“Well, you’ve got enough backup now so’s you don’t have to fix it immediately.” He gestured to the two of them. “Kevin Tran, Sam and Dean Winchester, our newest pilot team. Sam and Dean, Kevin Tran, pilot and fellow scientist. And you met Natalie and Jimmy.”

“Castiel. My name is Castiel,” Jimmy frowned, speaking around a mouthful of waffle. Natalie held her coffee cup up in greeting.

“You’re what the Marshal kept everyone up for?” Kevin asked, finally tearing his eyes away from his napkin.

“Sorry if we’re not exactly shiny new pilot material,” Dean gave him a sharp grin.

“If they were ‘shiny pilot material’ they would not be here,” Castiel pointed out.

“Did he keep the whole dome up?” Sam asked, cutting of Dean’s retort.

“He wanted to,” Natalie snorted. “Tried keeping the pilot teams and all of LOCCENT up, but they all argued they’re better with sleep than without, and Charlie stood up for her right to a full four hours, so. He just made the three of us stick around.”

“Yeah, where’s the Marshal, anyway?” Dean looked around. “I wanna thank him for the warm welcome.”

“Probably up in his office,” Kevin shrugged. “Guy never sleeps, too busy being the model major general, or whatever.”

“He’s not the only one,” Natalie chided him. “I know you don’t go to sleep last night. Which is why you think a Rosen matrix would boost your reactor.”

“It will, I just need to-“

“What’s a Rosen Matrix?” Sam asked over the re-burgeoning argument.

“Some guy ages back had a theory that you can integrate more powerful fuel into a less powerful containment unit through the inclusion of a mediating fluid combined with a beefed-up physical control matrix- without sacrificing the potency of your fuel or efficiency of your reaction,” Ash explained.

“The whole idea is too good to be true. And it’s been disproven in ninety-five percent of computer models, so it’s never gone to actual testing,” Natalie said. “ _And_ it’s meant for cold fusion reactors. You know, not the kind in _Atomic Monster_.” She snatched the napkin, and a game of keep away ensued before she crumpled it up and tossed it in Kevin’s face. “Our best bet is to petition the PPDC for new fuel and control rods and you, me and Benny can go over the power matrix in _Monster_ again later,” She shrugged.

“We already did that, and I already have! They won’t send anything out here!” Kevin uncrumpled the napkin.

“Call Garth, then.” She shrugged.

“He can’t buy nuclear fuel on the black market, the Marshal would kill him.”

“Then ask Crowley.”

“I don’t _want_ to ask Crowley, I _want_ to live, thanks.”

“Who’s Crowley?” Sam asked.

“The local kaiju parts dealer.” Kevin grimaced. “And general black market things-“ He waved his hands around, “ _Guy_.”

“He sells kaiju parts and the PPDC won’t nail him for it?” Dean asked, apparently intrigued.

“I wouldn’t recommend following in Crowley’s footsteps,” Castiel spoke up. “The Marshall tolerates him because he’s more valuable to the shatterdome out of jail rather than in it, generally.”

“Garth gets us good scrap but Crowley can get us _great_ stuff out of Oblivion Bay. We wouldn’t have the _Monster_ without him.” Natalie grinned at Kevin.

“Please don’t remind me,” He scowled.

They stopped talking in favor of eating for a while; eventually, Kevin got up to leave, still arguing with Natalie about the Rosen matrix from across the mess hall.

“So, your last name is Winchester-“ Ash turned to them again. They nodded. “Any relation to Dr. Mary Winchester?”

They went silent for a moment too long to be comfortable. Natalie and Jimmy looked to Ash, before looking back to Sam and Dean.

“She was our mother,” Dean nodded.

“ _Dude_ \- she was my favorite k-scientist growing up. She was the reason I got into the field,” He smiles, spreading his arms excitedly.

“Thanks. That’s, uh- that’s nice,” Dean smiled tightly.

“She was incredible! The mother of a whole new field of kaiju studies, she probably got _hundreds_ into the field! Kaiju-human drift compatibility, stronger neuro bridge connections, attack and command patterns from the precursors- amazing stuff.” He smiled. “You two must be proud. For her to be your mom, I mean.”

“Yeah. Yeah, she was a really great mom until she got blown up.” Dean stabbed his fork into the remnants of scrambled egg on his plate.

The table went silent for a beat.

“Dean, come on, he didn’t mean-“ Sam tried, but Ash cut him off.

“Nah, that’s ok,” Ash waved him down. “I get it, you lost a parent. Didn’t mean anything by it, just…”

“You had a cool mom and Ash had a crush,” Natalie interrupted. “Awkward _and_ slightly inappropriate, all in one. You two wanna look at your jaeger or keep having an uncomfortable conversation?”

So breakfast ended abruptly, and awkwardly; they all got up, tossing uneaten food and depositing trays before heading back to the bay. Ash and Castiel left them there; Ash with an apology, Castiel with a dreamy-sounding _until our paths cross again_ , and Natalie was leading them across the bay until they came to stop at the feet of the jaeger. It looked, somehow, more massive- it _was_ more massive- than anything they had ever piloted before. The cobbled together jaegers they had piloted before were smaller, thrown together from whatever they all could scavenge from junkyards and battlegrounds. The one they had gotten arrested in was beefed up with car parts. Natalie walked up to the computer bank at its feet and typed in a few commands, and the thing powered on with a loud whirring sound.

“This,” She gestured up to it. “Is a Mark-3. Originally manufactured and first deployed off the coast of Mexico, lucky for you- your conn-pod’s up in the head- she’s the oldest intact piece of j-tech we have. I overhauled it all, from the gyro-stabilizers to the _brand new_ fluid synapse system. Complete with a GD6 type chainsword, a retrofitted WMB2x95 missile launcher, and- _my_ pride and joy- a I-36 B type plasma cannon.”

“There’s no such thing as an I-36 B type plasma cannon,” Dean pointed out.

“There is, because _I_ invented it,” Natalie grinned back. “This thing will see you through the end of the world and back. Wanna head up and take a look around the conn?”

They took an inordinate amount of stairs up, emerging in the drive suit room shorter of breath than any of them would care to admit and walking across a wobbly gang plank through the hatch and into the conn; the display was off, the only thing in the view screen being the smooth grey of the wall. The pilot rigs hung loose and empty in the center. Natalie walked up the the central control pillar and switched on the HUD.

“State-of-the-art HUD- for a hundred years ago, anyway, but we can’t do much to update that- improved radiation shields, although the conn is detachable. It’s not out right now because we’re actually waiting on new fuel to get here so we can get her off electrical backups. Then you two can slap a name on her and be the first two out,” She turned and smiled. “She’s not state-of-the-art, but- this is my baby.”

“She doesn’t have a name?” Sam asked, looking around.

“Not yet.” Natalie shrugged. “I worked on her in Vladivostok. I was head of her pit crew there, too- the pilots ended up passing, so the PPDC striped her old name and sent her here.”

“We could just use that one, couldn’t we?” Sam shrugged.

“Nah.” Natalie shook her head. “You should give her your own name, you’re her pilots.”

“Well, Impala. Obviously,” Dean grinned.

“They usually have two names, but Impala’s a start,” Natalie nodded. A strange emotion flickered over her face and then was gone.

“Brave?” Sam asked. “Like Horizon Brave?”

“You wanna name it after _Horizon Brave_?” Dean scoffed. “That thing went down after, like, one battle, _and_ it needed an assist!”

“It was still cool!” Sam protested, shrugging. “The first jaeger, Dean- you know, the jaeger without which all others wouldn’t exist?”

“What about Rogue? _Impala Rogue_ ,” Dean suggested.

“Okay, well, you two get back to me when you figure something out.” Natalie turned and led them back out to the drive suit room. “In the meantime, we’ll get the team to cram you into some leathers and drive suits- you might be a challenge-“ She glanced up at Sam, who looked slightly put out. “And we’ll do a test drift before sending you out.”

An alarm went off then, making their ears ring. Natalie turned to smile at them.

“This is great!” She shouted. “You get to see us work!” And with that, she led them down a couple of flights of stairs, pushing through a door and jogging down the hall, Sam and Dean at her heels, before the three of them burst into LOCCENT.

The control room was swarming; they were shoved aside as Ash pushed past them; a redheaded girl behind a bay of holo displays tossed him a headset as he took his station. Castiel was already at his, talking rapidly into his own headset. Around them, techs swarmed, and the screen at the front of the room illuminated with the feed from the coastal cameras and recon teams; dark grey waves crashed against an indiscernible shape that sliced through the water. At the front of the room, standing still and square above it all, was the Marshal.

“Officer Novak, do we have a team ready to drop?” The Marshal turned and looked to him.

“The _Roadhouse Ranger_ and _Wayward Sister II_ teams are both ready to go. Rangers Tran and Lafitte are suited up, but ranger Tran would like us to note- and I quote- his strong objection to the two of them deploying due to their underpowered fucking trash heap,” Castiel turned to give the Marshal a nonplussed look.

“Get _Wayward Sister II_ ready to go. We’ll keep the Harvelles on standby just in case. And, Officer Novak?” He turned back to the screen. “Remind Ranger Tran he won’t be deployed until we need him, and that his giant fucking trash heap is the only thing standing between him and a PPDC cell.”

As Castiel repeated the warning, the Marshal turned to the redheaded girl.

“Officer Bradbury, what can you tell me about our kaiju friend?”

“Hardly a friend, but- well- obvious,” She trailed off for a moment before snapping her attention back to her screen. “First spotted by a deep sea research rig. We had been hoping it would choose to vacation in Belize, but-“

“Category and name, Bradbury!” The Marshal barked.

“Reports say it looks like a category three, name of… I’d say Azog. I don’t think there’s been an Azog yet.”

“Looks like or is?” He snapped.

“Is! Definitely is,” She nodded. “Seven miles off the coast and closing fast.”

“Open communications to the _Sister_.”

“LOCCENT to _Wayward Sister II,_ come in, _Wayward Sister II_ ,” Bradbury patched their comm systems through.

 _“We’ve got you loud and clear. Strapped in and ready to drift whenever you chucklefucks are,”_ A bored voice came through the speakers.

“Initiating neural handshake in three, two-” Castiel spoke up from his station, throwing a readout screen from his display up onto the big one. “Neural handshake initiated and holding.”

“Excellent. _Wayward Sister II_ , are you ready to deploy?” The Marshall asked.

 _“Let’s get going, please- I’m missing margarita time,_ ” The other pilot spoke up.

“ _Wayward Sister II_ deploying now-“ Bradbury said. “Exiting the dome, aaaand- making sea-fall. We are a-go, kiddos. Azog five and a half miles and closing.”

The video on the screen changed to show different feeds from external cameras and the jaeger as it stepped through the waves. The sky was overcast, blending in with the waves far enough out on the horizon.

 _“We’re past the miracle mile,”_ The voice crackled back through the speakers. _“No visibility on Azog.”_

“We’ve got nothing on visuals- keep a look out, it seems to have taken a dive,” Bradbury

Everyone’s eyes snapped back to the screen, waiting. The cameras on _Wayward Sister II_ panned left, then right, and the tension notched up a bit-

And then a huge, monstrous _something_ burst out of the water to the right of it, the cameras tilting as the jaeger tilted off balance. It looked like a cross between an alligator and some kind of bird, huge jaws full of teeth and a body covered in strange somethings that resembled feathers. It snapped its jaws at the _Sister_ , barely kept at bay by the arm holding it aloft. The other arms comes around, hand closed in a fist, and slams into the side of its head; they roll, the kaiju sliding back to the water in shock, gushing blue out of the side of its skull, shrieking. Dean looks and sees a set of spikes on the knuckles, now covered in gore, and grins. _Cool_.

Azog slips back under the water, leaving a churning kaiju blue trail in its wake before a tail whips up from the water, lightening fast on the attack. It knocks the _Sister_ back, but it’s not fast enough pulling it away. The tail is caught in _Wayward Sister_ ’s hand, a sharp, mean-looking sword descending from the sheath on its’ other forearm and being driven deep into the things spine. Beside them, Natalie winced.

“We still have to clean that,” she grimaced.

 _Wayward Sister_ doesn’t stop at that- they pull the sword back and haul the kaiju around, holding it by the neck before the hand opens, palm glowing orange, and the plasma cannon discharges one, two, three charges into the thing’s chest, practically hollowing it out. And, because that’s not enough, the _Sister_ takes its sword arm and cuts through the flesh and bone in one clean sweep before the sword is pulled back in. The body drops into the waves with a resounding _splash_ , and they toss the head over their shoulder along with it. The sword is retracted and the _Sister_ turns to return to the bay, one of the pilots coming back over the comms.

_“Azog down for the count. Start the blenders, boys, I like my margaritas frozen. Wayward Sister out.”_

The comm line went dead, and the Marshal turned to walk out of LOCCENT.

“Well done, everyone. Guide the _Sister_ back into her bay and then you are dismissed.”

He walked by Sam, Dean and Natalie without a glance, and then he was gone. Dean and Sam turned to leave before Natalie called them back.

“We go for drinks after, at the bar,” She explained. “You two are drinking age, right?”

“Does that matter up here?” Dean snorted, coming back to lean against the door.

“Not really.” Natalie conceded.

“Where is there a bar, anyway? Town’s, like, fifty miles away,” Dean pointed out.

“In one of the old common spaces. We’re technically not supposed to run one, but,” She shrugged, “What the Marshall chooses to ignore, and so on. Different groups have set up a few different ones around the dome.”

“Different groups?” Sam asked. “What, like West Side Story?”

Dean rolled his eyes at that and Natalie chuckled.

“No, just- you tend make your own groups of friends here, usually people you work with.” Natalie shrugged. “Mechanics with mechanics, MP’s with MP’s, y’know. And _we_ ,” She gestured to LOCCENT. “Have our own little celebration group and our own little bar. We’re the people who’ve been here the longest and, in the case of our rangers, the ones who manage to stick around.”

“You guys gonna come party?” Ash swaggered back up to them, the redheaded girl in tow. “We got a lil tradition, swing by the bar-“

“I already told them. They are ready for initiation, captain,” Natalie said.

“We like a party here,” Ash nodded. “Especially after a good kill.”

“It wasn’t even that great a kill,” The redhead shook her head. “It was just a category three- Meg and Ruby have killed, way tougher. They’re, like, super cool like that, uh-“ She trailed off nervously, looking around. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Charle. Uh, Bradbury.” She offered her hand and they shook. “You must be the new pilots. Sam and Dean? I saw you at the Battle of the Bay. Impressive stuff.”

“Yeah, everyone seems to think so.” Dean shrugged. “Nice to meet you. We all gonna hit the bar?”

“We gotta wait for Cas,” Charlie tuned to look for him. He was still entrenched at his workstation, talking into his headset. “He takes the longest- pulling the drift offline and all.”

“Can’t take that long,” Dean frowned. “Never took us more than, what, a minute or two to drop a handshake?” He looked to Sam.

“PPDC has better tech than whatever we pulled out of Oblivion Bay dude. That drift is probably levels above what we’re used to,” Sam shrugged.

“They updated it about a year ago,” Ash said. “Something new in the pons. Cas’ll know.”

“Can I ask, uh- the Marshall called him James last night. Why ‘Castiel’?” Dean asked.

“He, uh, had a… weird trip, a while back,” Ash shrugged. “Before any of us got here. Don’t know exactly what happened, he hasn’t told us. Picked the name Castiel out of some jewish mystic book, the Hekhalot Rabbati, I think?”

“Castiel is noted as one of the guardians of the door to the seventh hall. He has a lightening sword, among other weapons. He’s also the prince of Saturn.” They all turned to see Castiel standing there, looking mildly around at them. “I like Saturn. It has rings, and eighty-two moons, fifty-three of which are named. It’s cloud layers are also quite nice. Are we going to the bar now? Meg and Ruby have informed me that they will drown us in a river of beer and corn liquor if we’re late.”

The two pilots Sam and Dean had passed that morning were already there, out of their suits and behind the makeshift counter the crews had built, arguing over the whir of a blender. Kevin sat on the other side, chatting with a man who could only be his drift partner. He turned and waved as the group filed in, getting the girls attention. They all dispersed, Natalie and Ash going to talk to Kevin, Sam following Charlie to a table, Dean and Castiel leaning up against the bar.

“Fresh meat,” The girl from that morning grinned at him wolfishly. “You’re all late. I told Clarence here what would happen if you were late.” She looked pointedly at Cas, who shrugged helplessly, before ducking under the counter and pulling out a six pack and a bottle labeled _Mellow Corn,_ looking back to Dean. “Pick your poison, fresh meat- boilermakers or boilermakers.”

“Give him a reactor core,” The other girl slid over to them, margaritas in hand. “You can handle your reactor cores, right?”

“Dean, this is Meg,” Cas nodded to the dark girl who had called him _fresh meat_. “And Ruby.” The other lifted her glass in a mock-salute. “The pilots of _Wayward Sister II_.”

“And professional bartenders. Ish.” Meg smiled, turning to grab a few more bottles off the shelf behind her and placing a couple of glasses in front of them.

“Well, I’ve never met a drink I didn’t like,” Dean grinned.

“Big talk!” Ruby laughed, sliding Meg’s finished creation across the bar to him. “Drink up, buttercup!”

“No human could possibly drink this,” Cas held his glass up and squinted into it.

“Then you two are made for each other, angel cakes.” Meg smiled, already filling three other glasses.

Castiel frowned at Dean, who just shrugged and said, “Cheers, man,” before tipping his back.

It _burned_. Whatever Meg had mixed, it went down, only to try and come right back up and out his nose. Dean sputtered, putting the glass down and grabbing at the six pack for a beer, relieved when that seemed to cool it.

“Come on, no chasers, flyboy,” Ruby snatched the beer back. “It’s a right of passage!”

“What the fuck is in this thing?” Dean coughed, holding the glass back up.

“Your first reactor core, Dean-O,” Meg came back from dispersing drinks to Kevin, his co-pilot and Natalie. “Special mix, just for you and Clarence here.”

“It’s equal parts corn liquor, whiskey, tequila, hot sauce and mint schnapps,” Cas said, and Dean looked over to see that he had finished his, seemingly without issue.

“How the hell-“

“It’s not his first rodeo. You’ll be swingin’ ‘em back with the best in no time, just keep drinking.”

“Meg, what the fuck?” Dean looked to see Kevin on his other side, sliding his own reactor core back over the counter. “I can’t drink this, pass me a beer.”

“ _What_ an insult,” She took the glass it with a snort, sliding it towards Castiel, who seemed to accept it unquestioningly before rolling a beer towards him. “Ruby and I work hard to make sure you guys aren’t just decimated by whatever comes out of the breach, and you can’t even drink a victory cocktail.”

“No one can drink that.” He groused, motioning for the rest of the six pack before retreating back to the other side of the bar. Just as he had gone, another voice said “Sorry we’re late!” They all looked to see two women, one younger, one older, striding in, clad in matching pilots leathers.

“Where have you two been? You’re missing his initiation,” Meg scolded.

“Oh, you know. Someone’s gotta be a _mom_ ,” The younger woman rolled her eyes, coming to put an arm around her shoulders, commandeering the margarita glass. “Nice kill, by the way.”

“You two did good,” The older woman agreed, grabbing a beer before turning to the girl who was now obviously her daughter. “And your _mom_ is the only thing keeping you in that conn pod, young lady, so you’d best mind your manners.”

“Which one do you two pilot?” Dean asked.

“ _Roadhouse Ranger_ ,” Jo held out her hand and they shook. “I’m Jo, and this is my mom.”

“Ellen,” She and Dean shook hands next. “We heard there was a new pilot team coming in. You and him?” She motioned to Sam, who was in the middle of a lively conversation with Charlie.

“My brother, Sam.” He turned back around and introduced himself. “I’m Dean.”

“Winchester?” Ellen asked.

“Yeah.”

“Knew it. You got some of your dad about you,” She nodded sagely. “We served together, out of Turtle Bay. _Years_ back. You know Bobby, by any chance?”

“Bobby singer? Yeah,” Dean nodded, surprised. “He’s a family friend. Dad’s old drift partner. He’s out in Sioux Falls.”

“Those two were crazy old coots. We had some good times,” She trailed off, smiling faintly.

“C’mon, mom, you’re bringing the whole mood down,” Jo had left and returned with her own margarita. “We heard you guys got caught at the Battle of the Bay, right?”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded, smiling. “Yeah, we had been running missions out of L.A. before PPDC caught up to us.”

“That looked like some impressive tech for what you guys pulled together,” She smiled. “What’s piloting one of those like?”

“Probably the same as piloting one of yours, I’d imagine,” Dean shrugged.

“Yeah, but I heard you could solo pilot one of those if you had to. You know, without melting your brain,” She looked to Cas. “Right?”

“Any solo piloting represents significant strain on the brain. Even with the smaller size to compensate for the lack of a drift partner, it’s not advisable to pilot any jaeger completely on your own.” He shrugged. “But the degree to which they manage to is impressive.”

“We never piloted on our own,” Dean said. “Knew some people who did though. Didn’t seem to go too well for them, after a while.”

“I can imagine,” Cas nodded.

“Where’s John these days?” Ellen asked. “Haven’t heard from him in a while.”

She immediately looked like she regretted asking; something changed in Dean’s face at the mention of his dad.

“Not sure. We haven’t heard from him in a while either.” He shrugged.

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.” She sighed before apparently deciding to take a different tact. “He still got that car? He always loved that thing.”

“I have it, actually,” He gave her a tight smile. “It’s out in the garage. Can I ask, uh-“ He turned to Castiel, who was pouring the reminder of Dean’s reactor core into his own glass. “What did you mean this morning, about ‘shiny new’ pilots not being transferred here?”

“Anchorage is not the most… esteemed dome in the corps.” Cas explained. “People are usually sent here when PPDC command wants them out of the way, but not out of the fight. It’s…convenient for them.”

“What, you guys embarrass the yourselves in public one too many times?” Dean snorted.

“Charlie hacked into PPDC’s top security servers, Benny- that’s Kevin’s drift partner- had a disagreement with his old Marshal- the Marshal ended up in the hospital. Kevin had something happen with his last drift partner, he won’t say what.” Cas shrugged. Dean gave a low, impressed whistle.

“Meg and I were given the choice between Alaska or jail,” Ruby said. “Not that there’s much of a difference. We decided to go with the option that had less toilet wine.”

“What about Ash? And you two,” He motioned to Jo and Ellen.

“I put in for a transfer after my husband died. The Corps needed an extra team up here, so here we are.” Ellen grimaced. “As for Ash- he was a little, I dunno, too weird?”   
They turned to look down the bar to where Nat and Ash were shotgunning beers, egged on by Kevin and Benny.

“What about you?” He turned to Castiel, who was reaching for a beer to replace his drinks.

“I, uh- I-“ He floundered.

“He drifted with a piece of Kaiju noodle and lost a few of his marbles,” Meg said, shrugging blithely at the look that Cas shot her. “But he has also been here the longest, so he might’ve ended up like this eventually anyway.”

“Wow.” Dean leaned back, looking at him. “Never would’v’e guessed. And, uh, why would you do _that_ , exactly?”

“…I had a theory I wanted to test.” Cas sighed after a while. “Natalie was drafted,” He tried for distracting. “She was in Vladivostok before being transferred here.”

“What theory was that?” Dean ignored the bait.

“I would rather not talk about that right now. We’re supposed to be celebrating Meg and Ruby’s victory,” He said, handing Dean another beer.

“Okay. Okay, so,” Dean took a swig of his beer, looking around at the five of them. “This is some last bastion of humanity where the PPDC sends all of its losers and criminals?”

“Not _all_ of them, but, yeah,” Ellen said. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“Wow,” Dean grimaced. “Anyone ever left?”

They all laughed, chuckled into their glass or over cans.

“No. Not without being in handcuffs.” Meg smirked. “Or a bodybag. Sorry, fresh meat. You and your brother are here to stay.”

“Don’t tell him _that_ ,” Someone came up beside them, leaning against the bar on Cas’ other side and gesturing for a drink. “You’ll scare ‘im right back outta here.”

“I think he’s too dumb to be scared, Garth,” Meg tossed him a can. “The pretty ones always are!”

“ _Hey_ ,” Dean frowned at her in protest. She just shrugged, refilling her margarita.

“I’m Garth, by the way,” The man reached around Castiel to hold out his hand. Dean took it and they shook. “Garth Fitzgerald IV.”

“Dean Winchester,” Dean nodded before returning to his beer. “Haven’t seen you around. What’s your station?”

“Official junk trader and KPN liaison for the dome, Northwest division,” Garth said proudly.

“Garth hauls scrap and used parts for us,” They all looked to see that Natalie had made her way over. “Hopefully the fact that you’re here means you’ve got a delivery?”

“You know it!” Garth smiled. “Magnetic coils, some steel, that mark III reactor fuel-“

“You haul reactor fuel?” Dean interrupted, looking incredulous.

“I know a guy, gets me deals sometimes,” Garth shrugged. “Gimme some time to catch up and then we’ll unload the truck?”

“Sounds good,” Natalie clapped him on the shoulder. “Kevin’s got some wild idea about a Rosen Matrix I gotta finish shooting down.”

Garth let out a low whistle and gave her a nod of sympathy before turning to take in the room, his face lighting up when he saw Charlie. He excused himself with a smile and headed over.

At their table, Charlie and Sam were busy downing their share of beer as they talked, looking up when a skinny spit of a man was greeted by the room at large before spotting them and sitting down. Charlie had just been in the middle of telling him about her work with computers when she smiled and scooted over to make room.

“Hey Garth!” She greeted him. “How’s it going?”

“Not so bad,” Garth Shrugged. “Just making a delivery- June told me Meg and Ruby bagged a kaiju, so I figured I’d swing by the bar and say hi.”

“It’s good to see you,” She gestured to Sam. “This is Sam. Winchester. He was just stationed here with Dean.”

“I met Dean already. Aren’t you the Winchester who knew Bobby Singer?” He leaned forward, grabbing another beer.

“Yeah. He was like, our second dad? Sort of?” Sam shrugged. “Our dad dropped us at his place out in Sioux Falls.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Garth gave him an apologetic smile before hiccuping. “My dad did the same thing, leaving me. Fathers, right? But Bobby, he’s great. He told you about our theory of weather patterns affecting kaiju migration? We’re developing it, with the rest of the KPN.”

“I remember Bobby talking about that,” Sam laughed. “I had some friends at Stanford who had a similar theory.”

“Stanford?” Garth’s eyebrows shot up. “Look at you, man! Why’re you here if you got into _Stanford_?”

“Family thing.” Sam shrugged.

“What were you going for?” Charlie asked.

“Pre-law. I wanted to be a criminal prosecutor when I was younger.”

“I had a friend in computer engineering there,” Charlie said. “Why’d you wanna be a lawyer? Most kids want to be robo jockeys.”

“Why did you want to be a LOCCENT officer instead of a robo jockey?” Sam put the question back to her.

“I didn’t,” She shrugged. “I was in computer science before I got drafted. And then they transferred me here after some… stuff.”

“Some stuff?” Sam grinned. Garth snorted beside them, looking expectantly at Charlie.

“Hey, I answered your question, you answer mine!” She crossed her arm. “Answer the question, robo jock! Why law?”

“I just figured… there’s more than one way to help people. Besides piloting jeagers.” He shrugged. “The world still needs people to keep it working day-to-day, right?”

“True that,” Garth held up his beer in a salute.

Just as Sam was about to say something else, the Marshal walked in, the whole bar going quiet.

“Good job today,” The Marshal nodded towards Meg and Ruby, the two of them mock-bowing at the compliment. “An excellent example for our two newest rangers to follow. Speaking of- Rangers Winchester and Winchester!” He looked to Sam and Dean; Sam stood up nervously, Dean just rolled is eyes before standing up when Cas elbowed him. “Doctor Milligan wants to see you both in MedBay for physicals, _immediately_.” He turned and left, striding back down the hallway and out of sight.


	4. Week One

Charlie ended up showing Sam and Dean to medical- the rest of the day was spent bouncing around from medbay- where they met Dr. Milligan, a somewhat grumpy doctor who looked younger than Dean or Sam, who rushed them through their basic physicals before putting them on a vaccine schedule and tossing tins of what turned out to be metharocin at them- and then being picked back up by the group of rangers and whisked through what Meg called ‘basic _and_ boot camp all in one’, an extended run and obstacle course that had the two of them panting by the time they were finished. When they were finally able to retreat back to their room, Dean collapsed back into the bottom bunk while Sam climbed into the top one.

“God, I haven’t felt this sore in forever,” Dean frowned, stretching out before relaxing into the mattress.

“It’ll be worse when you wake up,” Sam moved to peek over the edge of the bunk. “And we don’t have magic fingers.”

“And it just gets _worse_ ,” Dean groaned, tossing a pillow up to try and hit Sam and swearing when it was grabbed out of his hand as his brother retreated away from the edge. “I better be getting that back! I don’t have a pillow.”

“Just shut up and turn the lights out,” Sam laughed.

The next day, the other ranger teams steered the two of them to the kwoon, tossing the two of them a set of regulation sweats and shirts. They changed in one of the rooms off the kwon, grabbing their staffs after they re-emerged and coming to stand beside Benny, who was looking languid stoic, and Kevin, who was busy doing a fairly impressive series of stretches.

“What is this for, exactly?” Dean glanced over to Benny, who chuckled.

“The Marshal likes us all to get in here at least once a week- all the teams, so we can all see how we work together,” He shrugged. “It’s also just a way to pass the time.”

“The Marshall gonna show up?”

“Probably this time, since the two a’you are here,” They both glanced towards the door. “After that, he’ll probably leave us all alone. Should be here soon, if he’s gonna.”

Dean looked back around the room. On the other side, Ruby and Meg were already going through basic forms, and Jo and Ellen were helping each other stretch. Dean looked to his left and saw Sam stretching, looking around the room.

“Alright, Rangers,” A voice boomed out, and all eight of them looked to the front of the room to see the Marshal standing there, holding a clipboard under his arm and a stopwatch in his hand. “Most of you know the drill, but for our newest additions- each team will spar for fifteen minutes. After all the teams have gone, we’re breaking up into threes. After that, it’s a free for all.”

He held out the clipboard and Meg strode to the front, taking it and the stopwatch and turning around to stand beside him. Ellen and Jo stepped forward first, Jo shooting off a cocky _Hope you can keep up, old lady,_ and Ellen laughing before Meg called a start.

Jo was fast- lashing out with rapid, confident strokes at Ellen’s legs, arms and stomach- but Ellen was experienced; she batted each strike away with efficiency, turning each strike away with her own deft sweeps before going for an opening at Jo’s ankles. Jo jumped, landed, and Ellen sidestepped her counterstroke, the two of them striking out at each other, Ellen just barely getting her point in a strike at Jo’s head first.

“One point to zero,” Meg called. They kept going until they were at a nearly even at eight points to ten in favor of Jo. The two of them inclined their heads to the Marshal before Jo strode forward to take the clipboard and Meg and Ruby took their place. Jo called the start, and the two of them turning in quick, tight circles as they struck out at and ducked each other. Ruby scored the first point, her staff cutting right up underneath Meg’s guard, forging her to freeze as it stopped inches from her stomach. They went to twelve points to eleven, in favor of Ruby. Meg took the clipboard back from Jo as Ruby flopped down, cross legged, to watch Kevin and Benny.

The two of them looked unmatched- Benny was broad and softly muscular, and Kevin was smaller, still built but looking wiry by comparison. Benny didn’t even bother taking a stance- he stood there, twirling his staff as he watched Kevin. Kevin squared himself up, focusing as Meg called a start. Benny just stood there as Kevin swung his staff forward, scoring a point.

“That’s the only free hit you’re gonna get, cher,” Benny chuckled, and then the two of them were sparring up and down the mat. Kevin would score a point, only to have Benny even the count back out almost immediately when he did, moving with a relaxed certainty while Kevin tried to push the advantage younger joints and more energy gave him. Their count was the closest- an even nine to nine when they were done.

They returned to the sideline, and Sam and Dean walked out. Dean glanced up to Meg, grinning as she smirked back at him. Sam just looked around nervously before the two of them squared up. Meg called a start, and Sam moved forward with a deft series of sweeps, Dean knocking aside each one before he pressed his own attack, Sam stepping back to counter. They kept on like that for a while, Sam darting around the mat as Dean followed, occasionally managing to redirect him when he wasn’t conscious of the edge. Sam would deflect, dodge, and spin out of reach as Dean attacked, pushed forward and tried to cut him off. When Meg called an end to their match, they had gone eight points to six in favor of Dean.

“Excellent show, Rangers,” The Marshal said once they were done. “Meg, Ruby, Sam and Dean, stay behind. The rest of you are dismissed.”

Sam and Dean walked up to stand beside Meg and Ruby as the other four shuffled out; Dean was the only one who had held onto his staff, tapping it absent-mindedly against his ankle as they waited. The Marshal glanced over the clipboard that Meg handed back to him before addressing them.

“Sam and Dean- a good performance, given that neither of you have ever had any formal time in a kwoon. I want you working with Meg and Ruby, every other day. Your final score wasn’t bad, but your forms need work- Sam,” Sam straightened a little bit. “Stop retreating so much, be more aware of your environment. Dean,” Dean glanced up to the Marshal. “Work on your defense. Learn how to retreat, and learn how to do it well. Got it?”

“Yes, Sir,” The four of them barked in unison, and the Marshal nodded and dismissed them before turning and leaving.

“Twice a week,” Dean huffed, rolling his shoulders.

“It’s not bad,” Meg fell into step beside him, pulling the staff out of her hands and putting it back with the others. “You’ve never been through basic, so this’ll catch you up.”

“Do I get private tutoring sessions too?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“Not if you’re lucky,” She smirked. “You don’t want private tutoring.”

“Oh, I dunno, I bet I can handle it,” Dean smirked back.

“Not if you only went eight to six,” Meg laughed, leaving them behind for the ladies’ changing rooms.

“Were we really that bad?” Sam turned to Ruby. She was doing extra cool down stretches.

“No,” She rolled up to sit cross-legged, stretching her arms in graceful arc on either side. “Most people do a lot worse when they get to basic, especially when they’re seeing who they’re drift compatible with.”

“Most people?” He grinned.

“People who’ve never drifted before. People who don’t know each other at all,” She rolled her shoulders and pushed forward. “Generally these things take a lot of time to figure out. You two have a head start.”

“We’ll try and keep it up then,” Sam nodded, retreating back toward the mens’ rooms. Dean was already in his fatigues, leaning against the door and chuckling at what he no doubt saw as Sam’s odd attempts at flirting.

The rest of the week they were up at alarm again, pulling on the fatigues they had collected the night before. Morning exercises with the rest of the rangers, and then breakfast, where they sat and listened as Kevin and Natalie jockeyed more ideas about _Atomic Monster_ ’s reactor back and forth.

Their fuel finally arrives, and by then Sam had finally convinced Dean to make _Horizon_ the jaeger’s second name. They were both standing with Natalie as a crew painted the words across its’ shoulders, and then as she directed the crew in sliding the fuel core into its’ cavity, Dean cracking a dirty joke and Sam whacking him on the shoulder as they secured it. It was strange, Sam thought- the jaeger was big, almost absurdly so- stories high- and you could fit three full-grown men, one on top of the other, in the reactor core cavity. That’s what truly made them weirdly, comically small, as Natalie and the others finished cranking all the rivets around, locking the fuel rods into place. They were dwarfed by it, ants crawling on the chest of something much, much larger.

When Natalie rejoined them at the control panel it was hooked up to, she was grinning wildly.

“Ready to boot ‘er up?”

“ _Hell_ yeah,” Dean grinned back.

“Let’s do it.” Sam looked up at the things chest, to the black hole that started to hum as it spun up, sucking air into it. And then, somewhere inside the tunnel, an orange glow was growing. Expanding, burning hotter and hotter until it ate up all the darkness, the roar Sam was sure it made dampened by the containment unit and the steel chassis. A laugh bubbled up in his chest. Beside him, Dean whooped and punched the air before throwing an arm around his shoulder, saying _There she is, Sammy! Look at ‘er burn!_

He looked across to Natalie, and the joy he felt faltered. She was smiling, like everyone else, but it wasn’t with the same wild exuberance that everyone else was caught up in. It was like she was looking at an old holo, or a picture. Like she was looking at a memory.

Sam didn’t have very long time to think on it- the Marshal had joined their group, his mouth twitching up at the corners into what Sam expected was the closest he ever got to smiling. He clapped Sam on the back.

“Congratulations, rangers. You’re officially up and running.”

“Thanks, Marshal,” Dean grinned back. “Can’t wait to take ‘er out, show the rest of the crews how it’s done.”

“And we can’t wait to see you two embarrass yourselves!” Meg shot back from where her and Ruby were standing by its’ left foot. They all laughed at that before Dean threw back a jibe.

“We’ve still got some adjustments to make,” Natalie said, crossing to the computer bank at the jaegers’ feet and looking through the diagnostic that blinked up on it. “It’ll be another few days. We have to double check the reactor output, tune up the relays, and make sure the radio works, but after that, she’s all yours.”

‘A few days’ turned out to be a week before Natalie pulled them out of the cafeteria after they bussed their trays, leading them back to the drive suit room and handing them over to techs to be outfitted.

After, she tossed them both helmets, grinning wildly.

“It’s ready?” Dean held his up, looking excited.

“It’s ready,” Natalie shrugged nonchalantly. “While you were getting your butts whooped in the Kowoon and running yourselves silly, we put the finishing touches on everything. Not to brag, but I think it’s some of the best work I’ve ever done. We’re all waiting to see how you two do with your test drift.”

“Test drift?” Dean frowns. “We already know we’re drift compatible, why-“

“They gotta see how we drift together,” Sam cut across him, already fitting the helmet over his head and letting the relay gel drain into the rest of the suit’s system. “You know, with actual, regulation-grade equipment?”

“Isn’t that what the Kwoon is for?” Dean shot Natalie a look.

“Scared?” She teased. “Get on in there. We’ll make sure nothing happens to you.”

Dean and Sam retreated to the conn pod, buckling into the harness and waiting. When nothing happened, a voice crackled through the comm’s that they recognized as Ash’s-

_“You know you gotta turn the thing on, right?”_

“Well where the hell is the switch?” Dean shot back, looking around. “I thought LOCCENT was in charge of that?”

_“Center console- put in your access code. It’s the year, by the way- and we’ll get you online.”_

Dean tapped the code in, and the display bloomed to life around them, the air filling with a low _hum_.

 _“Jaeger online,”_ Cas’s voice came through now. _“Are you two ready?”_

“Pretty darn,” Sam shot back.

 _“You two will be test-drifting and making a circuit just off the coast,”_ The Marshal’s voice came through now. _“Shouldn’t take more than thirty minutes. This is your first chance to impress, rangers.”_

“Yeah, yeah, just get us in the drift,” Dean frowned, meeting Sam’s eyes and making a face. Sam grinned, snorting to repress his laugh as Cas came back through the comms.

_“Initiating neural handshake in three- two- one-“_

Sam and Dean braced themselves, but nothing could have prepared them for feeling the bottom drop out from under their feet. Non-corps drifts were like wading into shallow water, being swept up in a pleasant current that bore you along- the memory of a family trip to the Nantahala welled up, the two of them cramming themselves into an inter tube and drifting along under a canopy of jewel-green before the image burst- _this_ drift was like being swept into a rapid. It was the difference between wading and being _immersed_ \- the entirety of their memories swirled around them before breaking, their brains finally managing to sift through the increased input so they could look out the view screen in front of them, taking in the hanger from who knew how many stories above the ground.

 _“Drift initiated and holding steady.”_ Cas’s voice filter through, bouncing around their collective head.

 _“You two ready to take ‘er out for a spin?”_ Ash came through; each voice was accompanied by an image of them, Cas and Ash from two separate viewpoints before melding into each other.

“Ready when you are,” Dean shot back, his surge of excitement multiplying as it fed back through Sam’s, growing into a near-irresistible itch. They took the first step forward, wobbling some as they got used to the feeling of a thousand-ton machine moving with them; the weight, the millisecond that it lagged behind them- and then they were out, the bay doors falling open so they could leave the steel and concrete cocoon of the dome, crossing the ramp that bridged the sandy beach before making sea fall. They could feel the water crash up against their legs, input from the outside sensors and the product of sense-memory. A shiver ran through them like a wire, and they acclimated for a moment before pulling forward- the impala was primarily Dean’s, Sam’s will getting tugged along in the wake of their legs pumping as they ran before their minds catching up to each other, ignoring Cas’s gripe about their slight moment out of sync.

 _This,_ Dean’s voice drifted across, _Is amazing!_

 _“You’ve got about two hours with the fuel in there now,”_ Natalie’s voice filtered through- apparently she had grabbed Ash’s headset, because his voice came back through not a moment later.

_“We’ve marked your route on the HUD, don’t go too far off the Rez or we’ll be airlifting you back to the bay.”_

They chewed up miles of coast, buoyed along by their amplified enthusiasm. When Natalie radioed in for them to try the plasma cannon, they fired off a volley, and deployed the chainsword after that, cutting sharp arcs through the air with child-like glee. Eventually, the Marshal’s voice came across.

_“Alright, boys, time to head back to base.”_

“Aw, c’mon, Marshal,” Dean grinned, Sam smiling with his wave of bravado.

“Just a little while longer,” Sam finished.

_“Now, rangers! That’s an order. You’ll get to take her back out when you’re deployed.”_

The eye roll was more a shared feeling than an action; they turned and started trudging back, keeping their eyes on the horizon that had swung around to their right, the fact that they had to return to base putting a damper on their drift, memories of denials and disappointments flickering through. Eventually they cycled away, filtered out at Sam’s insistence and his imagining their next deployment- their _real_ deployment, and the power they would have- before they stepped back up the ramp and into the bay. When they stopped back in their spot, still caught up in their own excitement, Cas cam back over the comms.

_“Are you two in position?”_

“We’re right back where we started,” Sam’s gaze flickered up to some point on the ceiling, reflexively looking for where Cas’s voice might be coming from.

_“Excellent. Brace yourselves, I’m going to take the drift offline.”_

Even with the warning and the countdown, when Sam and Dean’s handshake dropped it felt like they did, their vision separating weirdly back into their separate heads. The tension went out of their harnesses, a team of techs striding in to help unbuckle and let them down, taking the helmets and pieces of armor. Their legs bucked under their own weight when it was done, one of the techs tossing each of them a set of clothes- Dean pulled his apart to see a set of fatigues, a matching jacket that said _Team 00-4_ on a patch sewed across the front.

“We’ll replace the patch when you name her,” Natalie’s voice came from the door. She was leaning against it, slightly out of breath from running down from LOCCENT. “C’mon, it’s, like, way past lunch. Ash n’ Cas are heading down to the cafeteria soon.”

They shrugged out of the drive suits and into the fatigues in short order, Dean rolling the legs of his pants up and Sam wishing that his were slightly longer, frowning at the stab of irritation that bounced back and forth between them.

“Is that- are you annoyed with your fatigues?” Dean looked up at him as they made their way down the stairs, following Nat.

“I guess? I mean, you think yours are too long-” Sam shrugged before realizing what it was. “This is ghost-drift. Dean, this-“

“Don’t wet your nerd panties, dude,” Dean rolled his eyes. “I don’t want to feel _that_ through the ghost-drift.”

“Shut _up_ , you were excited too,” Sam shoved him, jumping down the last few stairs and coming to stand with Nat, Cas and Ash.

“How was it?” Cas looked expectantly between them.

“ _Amazing_ ,” Sam grinned. “We’ve never been in a drift that intense. It’s like-“ He broke off with a shrug, rebutting the eye-roll that he could feel from Dean.

“Like your minds have actually become one,” Cas completed for him. “The same being rather than just… working in the same space.”

“Wow, Deepak, that’s amazing,” Dean shot Cas a look.

“You’ve drifted before?” Sam asked him, ignoring Dean.

“No,” Cas shook his head. “But I’ve, uh, heard- from rangers.”

“We installed an upgrade to the pons earlier this year,” Nat turned back to look at them. “Central command said it would improve drift stability and neural connection. So far all of our teams are big fans.”

“It blows the non-regulation pons out of the water,” Sam grinned before nodding to Dean. “He’s impressed too, he just wants to seem cool.”

They reached the cafeteria, sliding into line behind a group of techs.

“Yeah yeah, sorry I’m not losing my cool here,” Dean rolled his eyes, passing Sam a tray. He knew Sam could feel the elation that was still bearing him along despite the unimpressed front he was putting up. The line moved along and soon they were sitting down with bowls of ramen, slurping what tasted familiarly like the instant stuff.

“So when do you guys think a kaiju'll show again?” Sam asked Nat.

“You excited to get back out?” Ash grinned at him.

“Well, we haven’t piloted in a while,” Sam just shrugged, slurping more noodles. “It’s exciting. Getting back out, and getting to be in a regulation jaeger.”

“Imagine what actually fighting in that thing is gonna be like,” Nat smirked.

"There's no discernible pattern. You can ask Charlie, but I'm not sure she could give you a better answer," Cas shrugged.

"We'll put you out there first, though," Ash said. "Promise."


End file.
